30 Days OTP Challenge: NSFW Edition
by AMRainer
Summary: Just a bunch of (hot) drabbles about a certain brunette duo.
1. DAY 1: CUDDLES (NAKED)

**HELLO! And welcome to the 30 days OTP challenge: NSFW edition. Well, I totally saw it on Google so you can check out what's coming next LOL. I'll warn that these drabbles probably won't make it to over 1k each. That being said, I hope you enjoy!**

 **Thanks to my beautiful girlfriend for this amazing cover! I love you babe :3**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, bc if I did all of this would be onscreen * wink ***

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 **SEXUAL CONTENT IN EVERY CHAPTER, DON'T READ IF NOT SUITABLE!**

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DAY 1: CUDDLES (NAKED)

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Strong masculine arms wrap around her slim waist, large palms sliding through her still sensitive skin as his fingertips capture small reminders of her. His lips press to her forehead, amidst her messy bangs and he can't help a flowery scent to fill his nostrils.

Hotch smiles against her, sleepy and still lost in that post-coital haze, but goddamn he can't help a genuine warmness to spread all over him. It's unique – it's been unique for as long as they've been doing this. Feminine swollen lips press against the crook of his corded neck, snuggling closer in his embrace as though tomorrow does not exist.

His other hand molds her hips to the side of his body, guides one endless leg until it wraps around his hip, presses her core to his thigh with the faintest trace of sexual innuendo. Emily's still soaking against his flesh, and it takes all his self-control not to pin her to the bed, claim her lips once again along with her depths.

But that can be done later, his focus now completely stuck at the feel of her whole bare frame tangled with his own as they fall slowly into delicious slumber.

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	2. DAY 2: KISS (NAKED)

**Welcome to day two of the challenge, still 28 days to go and it makes me wonder why I started this in the first place LOL I hope you enjoy it!**

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DAY 2: KISS (NAKED)

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She's straddling him a heartbeat after she finds him reading what she supposes to be paperwork. It's not his business appearance even just in boxers that arouses her; neither is how droplets of hot water are still running down her back and front despite the towel cladding her.

It's those damn reading glasses that carry her to shove her mouth against his, engage in a bruising connection that unsurprisingly makes him yank the white towel away and her deft hands to hook on the waistband of his underwear. Hotch is a great kisser, master of the art of ravaging every crevasse and undoing every and all of her self-control.

But it's her turn that night, her turn to battle wars with his skilled tongue – to win. Prentiss runs her tongue on his bottom lip, asks for entrance before he willingly grants her permission with a sly grin that elicits a shiver down her spine. They dance, blend, sloppy but unusually meticulous, until he's growling for more by that exact instant she nibbles at his mouth.

His eyes are black, profound, hungry for her in the most primal of the ways. Her mouth works the path down his jaw, spreading butterfly kisses all over it. And it's then that she notices how fingers of his are running her every curve, pulling her even closer to where he needs her most.

"What caused all of this?" he chuckles low, filthy.

The brunette agent takes a minute to just stare at him, withdrawing the delicate touch while her arms round his broad shoulders. When had she discarded his boxers? She's not quite sure. Emily's digits trail his glasses' black temple, offering him no further explanation as she leans in for another searing session.

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	3. DAY 3: FIRST TIME

**Here's day 3 of this work, I hope you enjoy it! Btw, this is set in the 1994 AU also know as the one I use in most of my works when referring to Hotch's assignment back to when he worked for the Ambassador Prentiss. ;)**

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DAY 3: FIRST TIME

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Aaron Hotchner is not that kind of man to lose his grip on himself, he's never the one nervous, fidgeting with his tie or simply trembling from the mere possibility of something. But that's the state he finds himself at this very moment.

It's stupid, he knows, because truly it's not his first time and neither is hers. Yet, it's a first time for the both of them together, and he sure as hell wants this to be remarkable. Why? He loves her, that's enough reason, and he's sure of that for as long as he lives and breathes.

Part of it might as well have to do with the fact that he's in an assignment – the Ambassador wouldn't appreciate security guys banging his daughter, would she? – and the other half is certainly about how much of a boy he feels towards her. As he defined himself, it's stupid.

His erection rests against her inner thigh, so close to where he's dreading to be for a while now. Emily sucks a mark on his neck, his head suddenly tilting backwards only the slightest as he hisses in faded pain. Feminine fingers comb his black hair, keeps him close therefore their mouths can find their routes back to each other.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, gingerly because he's not quite sure he'll be able to stop by the instant he enters her. "Tell me, Emily"

"I am" the Ambassador's daughter whispers, her breath fanning his cheeks.

And Hotch reaches for protection because the last way he wants to be remembered by her is for lack of respect over everything he had sworn absolute secrecy. She nods her acknowledgement that she's ready for this as much as he is, locking her legs around his waist whilst maneuvering his tip to border her entrance.

His eyes darken as he pushes into her, slowly and thoroughly until he's buried deep within her tight channel. Hotch grunts, her taut nipples brushing against his naked torso in a fluid motion created by the film of sweat enveloping them. That's the minute he settles, kisses her lovingly so to prove to her his point.

He breaks the touch, lids unhooding lust-filled orbs and announcing him silently that there's just so much more ahead for them. The younger Prentiss nods, quiet, ready, and the love he sees reflected in her is what he needs to keep going.

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 **Hit the review button plz! I'm enjoying sm the response to this :3 See you tomorrow!**


	4. DAY 4: MASTURBATION

**Soooo, guess who's back for day 4? Yeah, meee ahaha I guess things start to get heavier from this chapter forward, since the first 3 were rather vanilla ;P I hope you enjoy it!**

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DAY 4: MASTURBATION

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They have a deal. No touching, no reaching, none of that romantic bullshit. It's just dark, lust-filled irides bored into her spread out legs on the large bed, her edging black orbs focused on his firm grip on himself as he pumps his length in that lonely hotel room's armchair (another rule: no bringing it home).

Two of her fingers rub lazy circles, his baritone voice echoing throughout the place whilst he guides her into that sinful abyss of pleasure she has been dreading ever since they arrived in New York. Emily never took Hotch for a man with such terrific ability to dirty talk to her – maybe because she wasn't that much into it before him anyway – but just as his rich tone chants just how _fucking_ wet she is for him, every nerve ending of hers seem to become so much more responsive.

And it's explosive.

Expresses itself from the way her walls clench with a damn hollow forming within her to how she bucks wildly into her own palm, feminine hips leaving the mattress in a desperate attempt to just come for him. And she does, with a choked curse, her toes curling, the muscles of her toned thighs twitching unconsciously. It zooms out for a minute, the Interpol Chief's body collapsing onto the mattress in the after throes of her climax.

An exhausted glance is enough for her to catch the glimpse that caused all of this in the first place. The ever so stoic man with his lids shut, jaw clicking while he comes into his own hand as a mere extent of her recent high. It's insane, she knows, but that satisfied grin he gives her, every tense line simply vanishing from his handsome face, is all it takes for her to slip a skillful hand down her flat stomach one more time.

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	5. DAY 5: BLOWJOB

**Yep, this chapter was the most difficult to write (and I was pretty much drunk when I did it) but anyway, how do you expect me, 200% into women, to know how this goes? lmao I hope you enjoy it though!**

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DAY 5: BLOWJOB

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" _Emily_ ", the father of one hisses between gritted teeth as he eagerly watches a brunette curtain of hairs descending right in front of him.

From his spot in the large home office chair, Aaron can only grunt and groan and growl and all the other sounds with the sight presented to his very hazel eyes. Knees steady on the carpet, one small hand gripping his left thigh, another stroking the base of his shaft firmly. God yes, he has none but his dearest subordinate swallowing his manhood slowly, her tongue pillowing the underside of his shaft while she bobs her head up and down until she can only withdraw a minute to catch her breath.

He wonders, vaguely, what has he done to deserve such thing? Maybe it has something to do with his birthday – he's clueless to be honest because he's been making sure to forget his age ever since it reached the fourth decade. Maybe it's just another wet dream and he'll have to fuck the memory of her out into his hand.

Yet, warm mouth skillfully envelopes his tip in a swift movement, using her tongue to draw the weeping slit therefore she can taste what she does to him whenever there's just the slightest more of leg on display. That's how much of a loser he is, and he's truly glad if that's what he's going to get from it anyway.

Dark doe eyes look up at him, that image burned into his memory for eternity along with all that expanse of white skin grinning between his legs. Masculine fingers entwine with long silky strands, guide her back until he's fully within her mouth, the feel of her throat softening to nestle him enough to throw him down that hill where the filthiest of the pleasures in life reside.

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	6. DAY 6: CLOTHED GETTING OFF

**Aye! Section Chief/Unit Chief AU! I really wanna write a long fic about this storyline later, really, but then I gotta catch up with season 12 and I'm lazy :P In this meanwhile, enjoy this naughty snippet!**

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DAY 6: CLOTHED GETTING OFF

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Where else would be better to start a new game than a business meeting with the heads of the Bureau? Certainly, for both Chiefs, this is the most ideal place they can come up with. Everything begins with her hand suddenly resting on his dark grey slacks clad knee. Then she's skimming his calves with her heeled working boots.

Chief Hotchner attempts to keep going with his notes, his Mont Blanc swirling with his awful handwriting until he can't simply take it anymore. He's more than done holding on, because Chief Prentiss is lazily palming him under the mahogany table. Even though he struggles to keep himself quiet, there's a different gleam in the director's eyes the moment he questions the older agent about his most recent reports.

Perhaps the flush on Emily's cheeks gave too much away, perhaps it's just the film of sweat on his forehead albeit the temperature inside the room is perfectly cool. Hotch is really not willing to discover and, if he has to be honest with himself, his only wish at this moment is to shove his partner on his desk and have his wicked way with her.

But he has to torture, has to make her suffer for he almost had to pretend some serious issue with his stomach in order to explain just why he was bent forward like a jackass. Sometimes, he wished he hadn't accepted the job in the first place. It fades quickly, a glance from her sleepy eyes is what makes him leave _their_ bed every morning for this.

His grip on her wrist in firm as he drags her into his office. It's bigger than hers – _his_ old one –, put aside more secluded from the rest of the team. The brunette is mocking at his tented pants the instant she takes a good look at it, and it's all he needs to hoist her up onto his desk.

This time, Hotch does not take off their clothes – he is aware of how much that friction kills her slowly, working crumpled pants swaying together. His covered crotch grinds against hers, pressing her stronger into him.

How long does it take? Ten minutes before she's bucking and begging him for more? He's not sure he cares at all, for his thoughts are fogged with the loss over these silly games they create every day.

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	7. DAY 7: DRESSED AND NAKED (HALF-DRESSED)

**Oooh, more smutty smut. I'm honestly having fun writing this, really, but sometimes I wonder why I have issues writing fluff lmao Idk why I don't seem to have the way for it aaaa and I feel insecure whenever I try it. Well anyway, after this small confession, I do hope you enjoy this drabble!**

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DAY 7: DRESSED/NAKED (HALF-DRESSED)

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Six hours. Six damn hours to prove to her that he indeed loves her, cherishes the memory of her every single day he heads up to his office and finds another woman in her usual place. Alex – it's not that he doesn't like her or thinks she's not capable, otherwise to be honest, because the linguist easily got along with all of them – is now that brunette wig he has to pass by.

God, he misses her. That's why the Unit Chief asks how much longer they have her – _they_ , not him in particular, for if he's lucky enough he'll make her stay tonight. That's also why he's the one that offers her a lift when she's had almost too much to drink.

Emily is almost uncomfortable in the passenger's seat, shifting ever so slightly until he's concerned enough to question her _what the hell is going on_. Maybe he had too much to drink as well, surprisingly so. She wants to talk – of course she does, why not? – and Hotch endorses her proposal by parking in an empty black alley. It almost feels like the perfect place for a serial killer to attack, his mind rambles.

But every slur she utters is frustrating, and the Interpol Chief can barely get one sentence complete before his lips are fusing with hers. He's faintly aware that it's risky, he's faintly aware he doesn't have protection, that a child now could screw up their lives.

It's too late, though, because she's undressed in his backseat without further protest before he can even register, his need to feel _her_ driving him insane as he touches every inch of fair skin. The raven-haired man gives her no time to run away, he's pounding into her – _soaking_ – pussy while her lips claim the space above his collar before she can moan in the crook of his neck _what are we even doing, Hotch?_

That's when he realizes how possessed he is, his clothes now plagued by the scent of hers as she just shudders beneath him in her own release. Her satisfied sigh mutes his words - albeit he's quite sure he tells her that he's still in love with her after so long. It's a start for the two of them, raw as it is, but a start nonetheless.

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 **Please, take a minute to leave a review! Y'all are giving me a lot of ideas and inspo to write other things! See you tomorrow ;)**


	8. DAY 8: SKYPE SEX

**hey guys! so, this theme is THE theme. I've read an E fanfic about it (belongs to Deejayil on AO3 and I've read it 1293802329 times, you should too). I must admit that when Hotch and Emily were skyping during Tribute the crazyiest of the things ran my mind, believe me, and I was happy when I saw the Day 8 ahaha. Hope you enjoy it!**

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DAY 8: SKYPE SEX

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It was late night, right after 2 in the morning – right after any decisions she'd make could be considered rational – and Emily Prentiss is irrevocably lonely. Maybe she should have attempted to sleep with more passion for the dull activity; maybe she should have finished that call even though the other end of the line seemed more than enthusiastic about speaking to her.

In the end, it's just a lot of what if's that she's not even sure whether she should consider it or not. They decide to carry on – he does, she follows suit because she was the one to come up with this idea of video in the first place. Giving the sound of her sentence a second thought, the brunette is finally able to understand his hesitation.

Strangely so, there was no absolute second intention to her request (alright, perhaps there was but this was unconscious of her). Although Emily is not surprised when her cheeks become warm, flushed, she's far away from shocked to watch an unusual red painting that region right about his buttoned-up's collar. She's intrigued, aroused.

It takes her a lot of courage – in the form of alcohol, that is – to slip a hand inside her jeggings. It also takes her much more of it to strip off of her garments to his very hungry eyes, to watch him swallow convulsively. And her ex-boss probably had some courage himself, because goddamn he gives her the view she's been craving for ever since she hit the call button.

And if Aaron Hotchner booked himself a plane ticket to London for his first break in ages, his ex-subordinate would discover such adventure only when her slender frame is already sandwiched between her front door and his suit clad erection.

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 **Please, leave a review if you can! I'd love to read them and see you tomorrow!**


	9. DAY 9: AGAINST THE WALL

**1994 AU AGAIN! This one is definitely dedicated to _LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou_ , for reviewing all the chapters so far, for being a blessed writer and for the new chapter of 'The Blue Skies We Wait On'! Go give her some love bc she's amazing. I hope you enjoy it!**

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DAY 9: AGAINST THE WALL

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Habits. Yes, goddamn habits they created throughout those five months they've been there together. Fridays in particular have been etched with an almost compulsive routine. Only this time everything is different. Well, not everything, she's still drunk and he's still trying to balance her against that damn closet's wall near the Ambassador's office.

He wonders vaguely why she's never sober when they are pressing so close – when he's nestled within her, when she's bucking against him like she's been starved for their encounters just as much as him. But Hotch doesn't think he minds at all, he doesn't even think because his mind is fogged with the sensory overdrive blended with the thrill of almost being caught. He's definitely not an adrenaline junkie - no, he's a boring married guy who shouldn't even be between her legs in the first place.

"It's my last night", she announces somewhere amidst the throes of passion, thighs locking around his hips despite the violent twitch of her muscles.

And then his eyes linger on her lips, the aroused flush coloring her alabaster skin, the darkness reflected in her deep brown orbs. It takes a minute for him to realize that she's not drunk at all – or that he is having a crazy dream and what he finds in her eyes is somehow a tender emotion.

He's inside of her a minute later, his hands attempting desperately to hold every inch of flesh available while her short nails attempt to dig on his built up back. It's faster than he can take, it's fast and smooth and rough and goddammit when he reaches completion it's better than anything he anticipated. But there's as strange – _different_ – gleam pricking her lids, there's a fucking tear spilling down her cheek and he's almost sorry.

 _Almost_ , for less than a month later, he's in Yale – _Yale, not Brown you moron -_ leaning against his car at that forsaken parking lot where he finds her with a cigarette between her lips and the wickedest of the grins on her ravaging features.

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	10. DAY 10: DOGGY STYLE

**Here's part 2 of my drunk saga, really, I'm sorry if this one is not that good because of it. But I - as Hotch and Emily during Skype day - had to have a bit courage to write this down ahahssa I hope you enjoy it!**

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DAY 10: DOGGY STYLE

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Talk about power fantasies. Talk about unleashing a beast who she never acknowledged its existence in the first place (alright, maybe she does – and did – but then it's too late to care). Emily knows there's just something about the way Hotch enjoys _more-than-he-should_ whenever he gets a chance to rub bare back after a tough day.

She just never anticipated that reaction. How could she since he's been quite the gentleman from day one? It's almost ridiculous the aggravated gasp she allows that precise moment his palms lead her to the couch out of all places. But it's his house, so she follows him suit, too lost in the feel of his boner against her – still – clad rear to bother.

And a beat later, her hands and knees are on the comfy surface, his teeth nibbling her shoulder blades, whispering against her flesh what he's about to do to her, what she's going to feel. It takes everything inside her not to turn around. The younger agent does look over her shoulder, though, regretting immediately as a hot wave of arousal licks her whole with that _damn_ glimpse.

He doesn't even have the decency to discard her underwear because, before she can even register, her boss – yeah, it does sound awkward - is thrusting into her slick heat with an erratic shove of his hips against her ass.

It takes a minute for her to realize he's tripping the edge so much quicker than usual. And it takes much longer – it takes him yanking her head backwards, bruising her hips – to realize just how much of kinky shit Aaron Hotchner is.

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 **Leave a couple of words if you can, please! I'd love to read them and see you tomorrow :3**


	11. DAY 11: DOM AND SUB

**And she said "allow Emily to tie him up" so what did I do? Of course, listened and tied Hotch today shahaha It's not in the same storyline as the day before but you read like that if so you want. I hope you enjoy it!**

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DAY 11: DOM/SUB

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There was something almost ethereal about his slender half naked frame and absolutely vulnerable under her predatory gaze. Her crimson lips stretched in a long, sly grin, the swollen flesh due their earlier exchange. One of her hands gripped the baton viciously, in waiting for him to move in a needy attempt to touch her.

Feminine mouth ran the length of his corded neck, nibbled at his earlobe before she yanked the hairs on his scalp therefore he'd find himself staring up at the ceiling. Lids of him closed, hooded his darkened orbs in order to endure the small torture of the baton tracing the heavy line pressed against his slacks as a mere consequence of his enraged arousal. God, he was about to explode, the warmness all over his chest sprinting downwards.

And she was dangerously aware.

Emily groped his crotch, chuckled low – _dirty_ – at the crook of his neck before she pulled away from her assault. The flush on his skin – and what was that? A feral gaze he held over her fully clad body? – told her that if only he had the chance, she'd be the one tied to a fucking chair, not him, not ever.

It was well worth the wait, though, for she slipped out of her tight jeans and leather black coat to appear in a damn dark and lacy underwear and nothing else. She was beautiful, a perfect match of everything he needed, but couldn't have at that moment.

And maybe the Unit Chief was going absolutely insane by allowing such use of himself. _Maybe_. But it became too hard for him to speak – too hazy, too fogged, too fucking hot - by that instant his vixen climbed onto his lap to grind like a starved cat against his boner.

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	12. DAY 12: FINGERING

**Well, this is a follow-up for Day 6, what means: UC/SC AU. Aye! I do love this world but I guess my time won't allow me to write it (also, I should update Many Lives I have like 5 written down ahsahs). Hope you enjoy it!**

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DAY 12: FINGERING

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Payback is a bitch. Oh, how much Emily Prentiss hates this proverb? Well, enough to fear for her very soul – figuratively that is - whenever she starts a new game with her partner in crime. And she sees it in his eyes, captures that exact minute when he's hoisting her up onto his table that he's far away from done with this small competition.

It takes another month for the opportunity to surface, parts of her wondering why the hell she had to choose a skirt – a black, pencil skirt nonetheless. He wouldn't have the courage, no, he wouldn't break the rules in front of everyone just for a silly revenge. But by the instant she occupies her seat, always by his side due their direct work relation, the Unit Chief knows what is about to come (her, that is).

They are half way through it when she feels his hand on her thigh, trailing the way up and up and up and then his large masculine palm cups her sex. She closes her eyes, leans forward with her elbows on the large wooden table in front of her. Emily chews her pen with every flick of his thumb against her covered bundle of nerves, that desperate need to buck her hips, to feel him makes her almost stop the Counterterrorism presentation with a long moan of "Excuse me, I have to fuck my boss. Now."

But of course it doesn't happen, of course, and it leaves her out of option. She takes a deep breath, never anticipating the moment his index slips within her, scantly filling her depths. She's so close, so close it hurts, her brown orbs darkened in extensions that startle him when he casts a glance at her.

Hotch pumps his finger, curls and swivels and thrusts and… stops? Her eyebrows shoot up, perfectly black cocking towards his lack of action. _Bastard_ , she looks down at her notes, completely unable to focus as her Section Chief presents his budget planning for the next couple of weeks.

And they walk side by side on their way back to the sixth floor, brushing against each other like there's a great crowd around them forbidding them to part. His eyes bear an almost devilish glint, and he's not surprised when, one month later, it's her time to win (he just doesn't anticipate that Emily Prentiss wins big, but that is for him to discover and for her to indulge).

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	13. DAY 13: RIMMING

**I know, it's late and this is super short, but I was almost asleep when I wrote this after a super exhausting day. Well, at least I had pretty review to make this all worth the effort, I'm glad! Oh, and hope you enjoy it :D**

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DAY 13: RIMMING (I CHANGED TO ORAL SEX BC MY GIRL EMILY DESERVES LOVE)

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"Good God, Aaron!" her choked gasp broke the wet silence elicited by the laps of his tongue against her throbbing bundle of nerves. His dearest subordinate's thighs clenched, every side of his head being pressed softly by the tense muscles while his square shoulders changed the angle with every move.

Large masculine hands ran her sides, skimmed her waist and hips and worshiped every extent of warm flesh he could touch. She was beautiful, all flushed with those long black locks fanned on the hotel bed. Hotch grinned, whispered against her core just how much having her there played to his male pride. It was stupid and primal, he was aware, but parts of him couldn't help it.

Using his arm to steady her hips, the older agent lowered himself to probe her damp entrance with his tongue, trailing the rim of it slowly before he could plunder her depths with his own heat caved. And the man worked, in and out, curled slightly when he grazed that tender spot within her.

He could tell when he reached from the quality of her breathing – it labored, turned into a quiet squeak -, added to the way her hips bucked wildly against his face. Even though this was wrong, even though this had to be last place he should have done this, it was her birthday and he goddamn knew better than to wait until they were back in town.

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	14. DAY 14: 69

**hey guys! yeah, I know, I missed the last couple of days and therefore the challenge *sighs* But my life became a huge mess and I was too drunk or too exhausted from dealing with drama. Either way, my mind couldn't focus or work and I am honestly sorry :( I will update Many Lives tomorrow, istg, bc the fanfic is almost all written and my lazy self does not find the time to post it *another sigh*. I hope you enjoy it and still stick with me!**

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DAY 14: 69

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Hotch is struck out of words by the instant she proposes to him such arrangement. Not that he is unexperienced and never had his fair share of experiences in his rather boring sex life, it's just a natural nervous tinge that nestles in the pit of his stomach whenever there's something else. But he enjoys a minute later, when she is straddling his face, each soft thigh framing his features so that all he can possibly see is her pleading core.

And he ravishes and spreads and fucks her with his tongue, then with his index and middle fingers therefore he can show her just how careful he can be. His mouth engulfs her hard nub, draws her soaking folds until she is riding his face because she can't take the pleasure overcoming her every sense.

That's when he feels it, her slender body pressing tight against his, her warm skin contrasting with his own as much as the way her taut nipples roll against his lower abdomen until Emily is able to reach what she wants – and what _he_ goddaamn wants as well.

His breath labors in a minute, humming his approval to her velvety lips around his straining manhood when she takes him in her heated cave. Even though all he can see is her center, her womanhood glistening and throbbing in the aftershocks of her firs orgasm, the Unit Chief still can feel every crevasse of her mouth stretched around him, her throat softening carefully to accommodate his length and girth.

It's borderline sinful, they know, but there's something about the way she cants her hips desperately and he thrusts into her face before he can stop himself, that tells the both of them that this is worth going to hell for.

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	15. DAY 15: SWEET AND PASSIONATE

**Hey guys! Here's day 15. This idea came to me out of a certain person I met that goes by name of Lore, I can somehow say she is my muse atm, bc oh well, it's a looong story, but thanks to her I still have inspo ;) Hope you enjoy it!**

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DAY 15: SWEET AND PASSIONATE

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 _It's Paris_ , this is what she tells him a split second afore – what is her new identity? He can't remember – she is tugging him inside that random apartment they had thrown her at. She clasps his hand with more devotion than she should, the still brunette woman lingers the touch until she has him against her front door.

The father of one does not ask questions – the bulge in his cargo pants wouldn't let him anyway – only shoves his rough lips to blend with her swollen red mouth, his tongue exploring like this is the last night of their lives and there's a tinge of desperation in the manner he rips apart the buttons of her jacket, that screams to him that if she is to be back, he'd give up on his life for her once more.

Because he has. Somehow that is. He couldn't handle the team looking at him, couldn't handle their suffering, and Aaron Hotchner had to run away for a mission in the middle of nowhere because he was afraid – afraid of himself after acknowledging the extents of what he had done to save the woman whose hands are now searching for his belt buckle.

He takes her to bed, hands on her hips while he guides her through the mess that is this small impersonal room, lips searching for every patch of skin available. Feminine body stumbles down the surface, and the now bearded man wastes no time on stripping them of every layers cladding their images. And he smiles, actually smiles against her lips when his whole body is sinking her into the mattress, their wounded abdomens seeming like they had just found the perfect match to their imperfections.

There is no hesitation, no protection also because he had no fucking clue he'd hold his spot above Emily Prentiss' delicate frame tonight. If only he knew. He is about to drive into her, to slam home with all the gentleness that he could possibly show in his rather disarrayed condition. Yet, he doesn't.

Pulling her closer, he gives her the power she has been lacking, the heal she has been scantly receiving and ends up that damn lonely torture that all of this place now represents. She is straddling his hips a minute later, large masculine palms running her sides like they want to record every change her smooth skin has – from the blackbird painting her ribs to the 1985 etched in black on her hips.

They come to each other that night sure of nothing, not even that they will ever see each other again. And whether she walked in the briefing room a couple of months later with hope amidst the sadness engraved in her brown eyes, it wouldn't be that much of a surprise if the hazel orbs on the other side of the room were only a mere reflection of hers.

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 **Please, leave a review! I totally wanna know what you think about this. See you tomorrow!**


	16. DAY 16: IN PUBLIC PLACE

**This is short and I apologize in advance, but I honestly don't know how I even had a clear mind to write something today. I do hope you enjoy it! And thanks to Pauli for the restaurant idea ;) I'll update Many Lives in a minute as well, so please, check it out! It would mean the world to me.**

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 **SEXUAL CONTENT IN EVERY CHAPTER, DON'T READ IF NOT SUITABLE!**

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DAY 16: IN PUBLIC PLACE

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"You realize this is a restaurant right?" she mumbles against his jaw, too lost in the feel of his rough hands traveling the curves to her body, pulling her flush against his torso that she managed to undress not a minute ago.

They exchange heat, kiss and nibble and explore before desperation overcomes their already fogged senses. It's not even a surprise, really, both have been doing this for longer than they should and this is probably just another night in the sea of times they succumbed to their most primal instincts.

His tongue searches for hers, battles and tangles until they are panting - until he rips her white button-up apart, hooks his gun-callused fingers on the waistband of her slacks and tugs it down along with her underwear. Then it's another rush – to feel her around him, to drive her into oblivion. And when he rolls on protection, claims the swell of her breasts with butterfly kisses, Emily allows a muffled moan because the team is just out there, a few feet away from them.

Hotch pushes inside of her like they can wait an eternity, meets her body with his and shows her that, dangerous as it is, there's just so much more than that. She relishes the feeling, runs her hand through his hair, smiles and gasps against his mouth when he hits just the right spot. And when he's holding her against his chest after their highs, the brunette agent is sure as hell his husky tone utters something amidst her tousled hair - _'You realize how much I am_ fucking _in love with you, don't you?'_

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 **Plese, leave a review! It would make my day reading from you. See you tomorrow!** 3


	17. DAY 17: ON THE FLOOR

**I can tell that this is my personal favorite, I don't know why. Maybe it's the end of this drabble, or the thought of Hotch and Emily in Exit Wounds (5x21). Maybe I am just silly ahshshsa Anyway, hope you enjoy it!**

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 **SEXUAL CONTENT IN EVERY CHAPTER, DON'T READ IF NOT SUITABLE!**

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DAY 17: ON THE FLOOR

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Flames were creating soft shades all over the sensible beige walls, the fireplace placed across from the double bed being the only thing to illuminate their room. They shouldn't be doing this, they know, because it's a case and there are people in real danger outside. But there was no point on keep going like that.

Hotch was facing insomnia and Emily was jolted awake by consecutive nightmares that she couldn't quite pinpoint why. Maybe the woods got to her, she'd never really know. And just like that, their supposed to be clear minds had drifted apart as fast as he had paired her up with himself to share this small hotel room.

Of course, he didn't anticipate the way they would be pressed so close - the blankets and pillows on the carpet in front of a flaming tint and himself plundering her mouth with his. There he was, though, cock sheathed within her, sweat covering their bodies along with the smell of sex that started to spread all over the place.

His thrusts were short, the white cotton wrapped around them forbidding him to give his moves more amplitude. It felt good anyway and he wasn't quite sure if he minded at all the restraint. Short nails skimmed his scalp, played with the hem of hairs on the nape of his neck, sucking on his tongue only the slightest to withdraw with a long moan while he struck her heat with such focus that it became overwhelming.

The father of one swiveled his hips, ghosted her parted lips with his as the air between them became heavy with arousal, their climaxes ever so close that it was almost torturing. Grasping her wrists, Hotch pinned them above her head, feeling as the feminine torso shuddering below him arched against his male chest.

He had control now, used the position in his favor to drive deeper, firmer, more intent of what he needed – to pleasure her, to make her come, to make her forget the nightmares and just blackout in the aftershocks of her orgasm. And he did, her lips whispering in exhaustion – _'I am yours, yours,_ only _yours.'_

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 **Leave a review, pretty please! See you tomorrow :)**


	18. DAY 18: MORNING LAZY SEX

**There's a reason why I don't like the world of Def. of Fam. - and that is bc I absolutely hate everything I write about it. Therefore, I am far away from satisfied with my writings today * sighs * But I tried, somehow still hope you enjoy it!**

 **Set in the world of the mentioned work of mine. * facepalms ***

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 **SEXUAL CONTENT IN EVERY CHAPTER, DON'T READ IF NOT SUITABLE!**

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DAY 18: MORNING LAZY SEX

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There's a long groan vibrating against her chest, she feels it more than hears it as the man that's embracing her so peacefully opens his lids to the new morning. His sleepy face – lips still swollen from the night before, a bite mark on his shoulder from the violent climax she was gifted with after a long work routine. Feminine palm cups his cheek, narrow eyes staring down at her faintly awake features.

"Good morning…" he hesitates, lowering his head until he captures her mouth in his. " _Mrs. Hotchner_ "

He pronounces against her, voice husky yet too gleeful for the small pleasure of calling her his. The touch lingers, deepens lazily before he is able to use his masculine hand to help her on straddling him. And it's not a surprise - otherwise, matter-of-factly - when his arousal grows against her lower abdomen, firm and slowly demanding more from the brunette woman.

Pushing him down the mattress, Emily sneaks her tongue down his corded neck, sucks a more apparent mark that has the father of two hissing between gritted teeth. He is barely awake still, his body unable to move while her heat dampens as intimate folds slide, rub against his manhood.

"You are _so_ not a morning person", she chuckles, nuzzling his collarbone before she withdraws to allow him entrance within her. The mother of one sinks down on his shaft, relying on the multiple orgasms he had provided her with hours ago.

She clutches the sheets, balling her hands in a desperate measure to balance herself above him. And the Interpol Chief rolls, undulates her hips against him without picking speed, a whimper leaving her throat before she is able to prevent it.

Hotch cups the back of her head, draws her in until their mouths blend along with their entwined fingers, the silver band on her slender digit matching his as they silently celebrate another new beginning.

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 **Trash me with reviews, please! See you tomorrow 3**


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